Send In The Snark
by defyngravity
Summary: Logan and Wheeler are on a bizzare case, Ross is telling them to behave, and there's something these dead people have in common...something...odd.
1. Chapter 1

**You know the drill. I don't own them, Dick Wolf does. Though I did make up the vis and perps and other random people that you don't know. Love to the doink doink, and happy reading. Oh yea, comments goodness.**

* * *

Detective Mike Logan walked out of the bathroom and stopped at the drink machine. Popping a few coins in, he pushed the button for his drink of choice and bent down to pull it from the drop slot.

"That's pathetic," a voice said at his side. He stood, popped the top on his soda, and brought it to his lips. He stared over the aluminum can at his partner, who had that smile on her face. That little smile that she just loved to throw at him when making her snappy comments.

"You wanna expand on that?" He put the rest of his coins in the machine and waved a hand between the machine and his partner. She reached out and hit a button.

"You groaned when you bent to get your drink," Megan Wheeler said, as her can slid to the drop. She bent down and grabbed it.

"Did not," he muttered.

"You did," she replied. "Maybe not loudly, but it was there." She turned and walked away, opening her drink and sipping it.

"Not all of us are still of the marathon running age, Wheeler."

She sat at her desk and leaned back to look up at him. "It was for charity."

"I didn't groan."

"Did too," she said it quietly, but was overshadowed by a loud voice across the room.

"Logan, Wheeler!" They glanced over to their boss' office where he stood watching them expectantly.

"Oooh, what'd you do now?" She crooned as she headed for the Captain's office. Logan followed with a roll of his eyes.

"What's up?" Wheeler asked Captain Danny Ross, when the two detectives had filed in.

"For you." He handed over a post-it with an address. Logan took it and glanced it over.

"What is it?" Mike asked.

"A man was strangled."

"There's gotta be more or it wouldn't be ours," Logan led.

"Found dead in his home, the only thing missing was his work gear," Ross informed. "All cash, cards, valuables are accounted for." He gazed at his waiting detectives and hesitated. "Across town we got one more vic, same situation."

"You want us to go check it out or make this a dramatic recounting?"

Ross gave Logan an unamused stare. "I'm asking that we take this case seriously."

"Why wouldn't we?" Wheeler asked.

"Because, these men...their work gear consists of ball noses and big floppy shoes."

"Someone's killing clowns?" Logan couldn't fake the moment of incomprehension that crossed his features.

"Like...Ronald McDonald...clowns?" Wheeler asked.

"Yes," Ross nodded. "Go check it out, and just remember..." he felt like a fool for saying it, but it had to be said, "Clowns are people, too."

* * *

By the time the two detectives arrived at the first crime scene, the situation had sunk in for them. They had driven in silence the whole way, mulling it over. Mike parked the car and headed for the front door of the apartment building. CSU was already buzzing around, in and out of the building.

"Remember what Ross said," Wheeler reminded Logan with raised eyes.

"I'm on my best behavior," he assured her. They made their way into the victims apartment and glanced at the floor, where a middle aged man lay dead. Medical Examiner Elizabeth Rodgers was bent at his side, but she stopped long enough to look up at her not so favorite detective.

"Logan," she greeted.

He gave her a smile. "Rodgers, what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Strangled with foreign object," she launched into it. "Sliced into his skin, but it was a lack of oxygen that killed him."

"Any idea on the object?" Wheeler knelt on the other side of the victim.

"Traces of latex and cornstarch."

"So the perp used surgical gloves to strangle him," Logan nodded. Rodgers shrugged and stood up. She looked at him.

"Could be, but that wouldn't explain the broken skin and rash. If I may?" She held her gloved hands out to him.

"Be my guest," he said. She put her hands to his throat lightly.

"If I were to strangle you with gloved hands...you might get a rash from the material...unlikely I'll cut you." She yanked one of her gloves off and stretched it between her hands. "Now this, with enough pressure, may break your skin. It also might give you a rash. Then it'll kill you." She pushed the stretched glove against his neck.

"But..." Wheeler got up and walked over. "That isn't even going around his neck. I know he's got an unusually thick neck, but there's no way-"

Rodgers nodded. "I thought about that, too." She stepped back and looked down at the victim. Logan followed her gaze and then nodded.

"Right," he said.

"What?" Wheeler was still a bit lost.

"Death by balloon animal," Logan explained. "Before it was an animal, or inflated." Wheeler got it then.

"That's a new one," she commented. She looked around. "Anyone find the murder weapon?"

A nearby patrolman handed her an evidence bag that contained an opened pack of balloons. "This is all we found. They were all in the pack in his kitchen."

"Do we have an ID?" Mike asked, grabbing the balloons and peering the package over.

The patrolman nodded and pulled out his notepad. "Willie Harp, age forty-three, appears to live alone."

"I'll want to examine him back at my place before I put anything in writing," Rodgers said, packing up her gear. She headed for the door to talk to one of her CSU guys, but stopped to smile at Mike. "Thanks for the help."

"I'm sure it's what you've always dreamed of," he gave her a nod. "Glad to oblige."

"I'm heading to check on the other one, I'll let you know," she said.

Wheeler walked up to Logan. "He belongs to a troupe called 'Send In Da Clowns," she said. She handed over a card. "The card is an advertisement for Willie...or should I say Winkie The Clown. It's got a cell number on it." She handed over a cell phone wrapped in an evidence bag.

"Got a number for the troupe?"

"Not that they've found yet."

"We sure no one else lives here?"

"No trace of anyone."

"Well let's see about finding someone who knows him," Mike said. He watched as CSU prepped the guy to take him to Warner's lab.

"Shouldn't we check our other clown out first?"

"Come now, Wheeler, no need to call names."


	2. Chapter 2

The detectives stepped off the elevator at MCS, hours after they had left earlier. Wheeler took a sip of coffee from her paper cup and gave a shocked shake of her head at the taste of it. She threw it in the trash, upset that she had probably only had two sips of it before it went cold. She sighed and her partner glanced at her.

"I'll get us some fresh coffee," he said. She nodded and went to sit at her desk and he walked off to get their drinks. Ross spotted them as Logan handed Wheeler her coffee and sat across from her. The Captain walked over to them and crossed his arms.

"Where we at?" He asked.

"Willie Harp was strangled this morning, somewhere between 6 and 7 AM," Wheeler said, after taking a long drink of her coffee. She leaned back in her chair and massaged her neck. "He has an ex-wife in Jersey, no kids. The last person to see him was..." She waved at Logan, and he pulled out his notepad.

"Kris Lincoln," he put in. "They had a couple beers last night, went their own ways just after 1 AM."

"Our other victim was Andrew Pavlova, 29. He was in the same troupe as Harp, he was strangled the same way. Best guess is he was killed around noon. We haven't found anyone local that's attached to him, but Lincoln thinks Pavlova had parents out in Indiana," she went on. "We have a list of names and numbers for the troupe, Lincoln was happy to help us there."

"We also have the head of the troupe coming in for an interview," Logan cut in.

"Okay, so you checked out Harp then went over to see Pavlova? How did you find this Lincoln character?" Ross asked.

"Found a message on Pavlova's machine from him, asking if Pavlova was meeting the guy for drinks last night," Logan answered. He nodded at his bosses raised eyes.

"So both victims were supposed to have drinks with the same guy last night? Explain to me why you don't have this guy in here for questioning."

"He's got a solid alibi," Wheeler answered. "Was at work from 5 AM until we went in to talk to him."

"No possible way he slipped out?"

"Anything's possible," Logan said.

Ross nodded. "Well talk to this troupe leader, see what he knows. While you wait for him, call Harp's ex-wife, see if you can get out there tonight or tomorrow morning. Call up every name on the troupe list and get them in here."

"Already on it," Wheeler said. When the Captain had left them, she closed her eyes. "I don't want to go to Jersey tonight."

"You and me both," Logan grumbled. "I was actually hoping I'd be outta here by seven." He looked at his watch, it was getting close to five as it was.

"What do you think?" She asked, not bothering to sit up in her chair or open her eyes.

"No forced entry," he started slowly. "Nothing stolen. The perp knew both of our victims, because they both let him in. We don't have anyone to look at other than Lincoln at this point."

She looked at him then. "Lincoln was at work."

He gave her a look. "Then-" His desk phone rang, cutting him off. "Logan," he answered it. "Uh-huh. Yea. Uh-huh. Right." He hung up. "That was St. Vincent's. They've got a patient who saw something about our case on the news and wants to talk to us."

"We'll go as soon as we talk to this guy," she nodded to the door where a guy stood looking around. He was wearing a t-shirt advertising "Send In Da Clowns".

* * *

"Andrew and Willie were good guys," Rob Fitch, troupe leader, said solemnly. "I just can't believe..."

"Tell us about Kris Lincoln," Wheeler said.

"Kris is one of the oldest members. He's been around since day one and he's one of my best."

"He had drinks with Willie last night, Andrew was supposed to join them."

"You think Kris had something to do with this?" He asked with raised eyes. He shook his head and laughed. "Obviously you haven't met Kris. He's a really great guy, he mentors the others and they all respect him so much."

"Can you think of anyone that had a grudge against both of these men?" Logan asked.

"No! Who'd want to hurt them? I mean, Willie had a nasty divorce. When he joined up with us his wife got pissed. She hated that he wasn't doing anything 'real' with his life and she left him for a guy with money. He never remarried. And Andrew...he was new to all of this. He's only been with us a year and..." Rob put his head in his hand. "How am I gonna tell the others?"

"Mr. Fitch, please, if you think of anything let us know. Until then we're going to be talking to every member of your troupe, you should know that," Wheeler told him. He nodded.

"I know it's your job, and I want you to find the bastard that did this, but none of my people are responsible. We're a family, Detectives."

They saw Rob out the door and headed for their car to go to the hospital. "What do you make of him?" Logan asked.

"He seems upset by it all. I think he's got a lot of faith in his troupe, if one of them did this he's not gonna know."

"Just what I was thinking," he nodded and walked to the drivers side door.

* * *

Logan and Wheeler stood in a hospital room, as a man lay in the bed before them. "You say you think you were attacked like the men that died today?" Wheeler asked.

The man held his hands out to show off the room. "I don't think, I know."

"Tell us what happened," Logan said, pulling out his notepad.

Harold Key nodded, "I was at home and I went down to the lobby to get my mail. When I came back I must not have closed the door all the way, because someone followed me in. My back was to the door, but I got shoved forward and something went around my neck. I couldn't breathe, I tried to fight, but I couldn't. Everything started to blur around me and I knew that I was about to die, so I let my body go limp. I blacked out. When I woke up, there were paramedics all around me and my neighbor was at my side freaking out."

"You say you didn't see your attacker," Wheeler said. "Did you recognize anything? A voice, a smell..."

"Yea," Harold nodded. "It wasn't til I was laying here thinking, that I remembered smelling something familiar. I realized I'd been strangled with a balloon. A balloon for cryin out loud! And then I saw the on the news about Andy and Willie, so I called one of the guys and was told what happened."

"You knew these men?" She asked.

"Yea, they're in my troupe. Were."

"You been at odds with anyone?" Logan asked. "Maybe someone that knows the people in your troupe?"

"Well..." his eyes shot around some. "It's nothin. I mean, he didn't...it's not like that."

"Why don't you tell us exactly what it is," Logan suggested.

"Look, I've been with SIDC for a few years now. We're a tight group, and Rob has really taken us far. He's a good guy, he's done a lot for all of us."

"But?" Logan prodded.

"Rob likes things done a certain way. He can be very demanding, and sometimes he gets angry."

"How angry?" Wheeler asked.

"He shouts at us, tells us what we did wrong. We let him get it outta his system and then it's all good."

"When was the last time he got it out of his system?" She asked.

"We have a regular show on Saturday afternoons," Harold said. "Yesterday we were practicing some new routine's and Andy had a problem with pickin up the hose on cue and holdin onto it. It threw the rest of us off."

"And Rob got angry?"

"Screamed at us a good hour," he replied.

"Thank you, Harold," Logan said. "We'll be in touch."

The two went back to their car. "We need to talk to Rob again," Logan said.

"I noticed," Wheeler replied. "But...I don't know." She slid into the passenger seat.

"You heard the guy, Rob's got anger issues."

"Right. But he sounds like one of these people who explodes in the heat of the moment, then forgets it all. It takes more than a bit of anger over a botched routine to plan and execute two murders and one attempted murder."

"So you don't think he did it?"

"I don't think anything, Mike. I'm just saying."

"Let's see what the guy has to say, okay?"

She rolled her eyes and looked out the window. "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

The two were both relieved when they got back to their desks and were promptly sent home for the evening. The unfortunate side was that bright and early the next morning, they were right back at their desks.

"Where should we start?" Wheeler asked, stifling a large yawn.

"How about at the corner with some eggs and coffee?" Logan replied. He was leaned back in his chair, feet on desk, eyes shut. His tie wasn't knotted and hanging loose, the top buttons of his shirt were free, and his jacket was hanging on the back of his chair.

"Okay. Rob," she said, trying to make a start of the brain work. "He's in charge, he's got an attitude. You said we should hear from him again, so let's pay him a visit." She watched him, waiting for an answer. He didn't move or open his eyes, so she went on. "We've got an address on our first vic's ex in Jersey, so we should go see her." Again, no answer. "And we've got a list of the entire troupe, we should round them up." Logan still made no effort to join the conversation. "Mike," she called out. "Mike!"

He snored loudly.

* * *

"Wrong, Wheeler, very wrong," Mike grumbled, driving down the interstate. "It's your turn to drive and you know it."

"You fell asleep while I was talking," she shot back.

"You ever listen to yourself?"

"No, I'm usually too busy listening to your pitiful sense of humor."

"You know what you lack? Respect. Two partners-"

"I know, I know, I should respect my elders," she smiled out the window. He shook his head, but also had a small smile.

"So, this Rob character..." he said after awhile.

"I gave him a call before we left and asked if he would be willing to sit in while we speak with the other guys in his troupe."

"He fall for it?"

"Yep, he was only too happy to agree to it."

"Then let's get this detour over with," he said.

* * *

"Mrs. Harp-" Wheeler started.

"It's Palladio now," the woman said softly. "Please, have a seat." She settled into an arm chair while the detectives sat across from her on a large flowered couch. The home they sat in was large and elaborately decorated in flower prints.

"Mrs. Palladio," Wheeler went on. "Were there any on going problems between you and your ex-husband?"

The woman folded her hands across her knee and sat up tall. "Will and I have been divorced for many years now. I don't believe we've spoken in...well, months I'm sure. We didn't have a good parting, but it wasn't prolonged either. The judge had some ridiculous notion that I had to pay Will alimony," she shook her head in disgust. "After all he put me through in those final years, I then had to pay him. And the reason he never had a penny was that stupid..._hobby_ of his. Honestly, putting on make up and playing with children? I mean, it's just not right."

"How many years have you been divorced?" Logan asked.

"Four."

"And were you still paying him alimony?"

She sighed loudly. "While Will and I were married, he decided to quit his job, leaving me the main income provider. That, along with the fact that I was...unfaithful, caused the judge to rule against me. Until he either remarries, or starts making an income equal or greater than what I would be paying him. Or for five years, whichever happened first."

"Or death," Logan added on.

She gave him a withering look down her nose. "What are you insinuating, Detective?" She said the last word bitterly.

"What my partner means," Wheeler cut in, "is could you tell us where you were yesterday morning between 5 and 7 am?"

"I was here in bed until 6," she said in a slow tight tone. "At 6 I woke up to fix my husband his breakfast, as I do every morning."

"We'd like to speak to your husband, and anyone else that'll confirm that," Logan said.

"You're welcome to call him, and he will get back to you when he can. He's a very busy man. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like you both to leave. I hated supporting Will, but I didn't kill him."

* * *

Logan and Wheeler filed into MCS and flopped into their chairs. "One unnecessary trip to Jersey, down," she said.

"You don't think she did it," Mike stated, loosening his tie.

"I don't know...it didn't feel right."

"You don't think she did it, you don't think boss man did it, who do you like?" He was cut off by his phone ringing loudly. He grabbed it. "Logan."

"Detective," a familiar voice greeted. "Rodgers here."

"Miss me already?"

"Something's been bothering me about this case."

"Just one thing?"

"No, several things, but only one is of my concern. The balloons. They make complete sense, in theory. But whatever balloon did the killing, wasn't taken from this pack found at Harp's apartment. I got an identical pack and opened them up, each balloon broke every time they were stretched far enough. You're not looking for the typical balloon animal balloons."

"Where does that leave us?"

"That's your job, not mine. I'm just telling you what I see."

"Were you able to examine our survivor's neck?"

"I was, whatever strangled him was the same object that killed your men yesterday," she confirmed.

"Thank you." He hung up and relayed the news to Wheeler.

"Okay, so let's ask our troupe where they buy their balloons."


	4. Chapter 4

Four hours later the two detectives took an extended moment at the coffee pot. "This is getting a bit repetitive," Wheeler commented.

Logan nodded. "Tight group, like a family, wouldn't hurt each other, etcetera."

"Not one of these people are giving us anything, and Rob sure isn't feeling any pressure."

"Maybe we should give him some," he replied, refilling his cup.

"Maybe. We've only got one person left for now. Until we get in touch with the others in the troupe that is."

"Right. Let's talk to him then go one on one with Rob."

* * *

"Detectives Wheeler and Logan, this is Gordy Leech," Rob introduced.

They sat around the table once more with Rob and one of his troupe members. "Thank you for coming in," Wheeler said.

Gordy nodded. "Of course, anything we can do to help."

"Mr. Leech, can you think of anyone that would want to hurt your friends?" Logan asked.

Gordy shot a glance to Rob, and the detectives watched Rob lower his eyes and shake his head. "Anything you can tell us," Wheeler emphasized.

"Rob, someone's gotta," the man tried to say.

"No."

"But they said-"

"Gordy!"

"Mr. Fitch," Wheeler interrupted. "Can you please wait for us outside?"

"No," Rob shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but we need to speak with Mr. Leech alone."

Rob gave one long glare to Gordy, then got up and left the room. Logan raised his eyebrows to Gordy. "You were saying?"

He hesitated, then stared at the table. "Risa," he said.

"Who's Risa?"

"She's a part of our troupe." As he spoke, Wheeler opened the folder and ran down the list of names. There it was, Risa Kline, one of the people they had yet to reach. "She was the first woman in our group," he said. "I'm not proud of it, but some of us guys gave her a hard time for awhile. Nothing major, really. Kid stuff."

"Kid stuff. Like what?" Wheeler went rigid and squared her eyes at him.

"You know, jokes and pranks. We'd ask her if she had to wear bras under her suits, things like that."

"Funny," Wheeler said dryly. "Go on."

"Willie, Kris, and Harry were the worst of it." Logan ran the names through his mind quickly. Willie- first vic. Kris- meeting both vics for drinks, had alibi. Harry- in hospital. Right. He nodded to show he was listening and on the same page. "They made very lewd comments and I heard them talking about buying certain...sex materials...and..." he shrugged, going red. "I never saw them do anything with them."

"What about Andrew Pavlova? How does he fit in?" Wheeler asked.

"Andy was good kid. Most of us are passing fifty, some older, some younger. He's been trying to fit in this past year and find his place. He's been spending time with Kris and the other two. I never saw him harass Risa, but..."

"So you're telling us this Risa killed Kris and Andrew, attempted to kill Harold, because they were sexually harassing her?" Logan asked.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Anything else to support your theory?" Logan questioned further.

"I overheard a fight between her and Kris a couple weeks back, right after our Saturday show. He made a crack that she needed a good...y'know...and she said she needed to find a real man first. He said he'd show her a real man, and she said she'd kill him if he ever laid a hand on her."

Logan and Wheeler saw their visitors out, but had Rob waiting in an interview room. The two stood over their desks, frozen from taking any action.

"I say we get under his skin," Wheeler said to break the silence.

He whipped his head up to her. "Excuse me, were you just in that room?" He held his hand out. "Did you not hear all that?"

"Yea I heard it and I say we ride Fitch."

"I say we go talk to Risa."

"She's not the priority. We had one person tell us about the harassment. We have had several tell us Rob's got an anger problem."

"Just last night you said you didn't feel it for Rob."

"That was last night," she shrugged.

"Or before we heard about this woman being harassed? Gotta stick together," he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"This has nothing to do with that. We've got the boss here, let's talk to him. Maybe find out why he didn't want Gordy talking to us."

"Yea, whatever," he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked to the interview room. She threw up her hands, shook her head, and followed.

"Rob, tell us about Risa Kline," Wheeler said, sitting down.

"Six years ago me and a couple guys I knew broke off from the groups we were in, and started our own. None of them wanted to do the organizational side, so it fell on me. Fell on me to create this group and hold it together. We weren't much, just four of us...five, six...for the first couple years. Then we slowly gained a few more people. Now, we've got twenty-five members. Eight of those are just part time, three are exploring other areas, but still paying their dues. We have rules, we have codes, we are professionals. And I made that all happen."

"That's nice to know, but not what my partner asked," Logan said from his seat.

Rob went on. "I am 42 years old and this is my career. It's all I ever wanted. To make people laugh, to entertain, and it's what I do. I won't give any of that up."

Wheeler tried to hold back a little smile. "You'd do anything to keep it?"

Rob met her eyes. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that I'm not going to throw away my dreams for a younger beautiful woman. She isn't taking it from me."

"Why don't you cut the monologue and tell us about Risa," Logan suggested, suppressing a yawn.

"I'm trying!" He pounded his palm on the table, then ran his fingers through his graying hair. "Risa has been with us for over three years. I'll admit, for the first year I didn't know how bad the guys were being to her. Once I found out, though, when she came to me, I made it end. I brought us all together to remind them that we're a family, that we don't hurt each other. And that as troupe leader I had say in who performed on any given night."

"In other words, someone misbehaves and they don't go on," Wheeler stated.

Rob nodded. "Exactly. And things changed from there on out. Things were good. We became more established in the city, we all got along."

"So just like that, the harassment stopped?" She asked.

"I thought so. I guess it didn't. I guess I never really knew what went on in my crew. But this last year, if there was trouble I don't think it was because of Risa being a woman. We have three other women and none of them have complained. The truth is that Risa and I were involved."

"Romantically," Logan said.

"Yes. The others found out and weren't too happy. They gave her a hard time again. They gave me a hard time. Kris, Willie and Harry said it was unfair and wrong. They were going to walk. Ris and I weren't anything special, so I ended it. She wasn't happy."

"And she was so furious with them laying down the line she killed one of them," Wheeler couldn't hide the amusement in her tone. Logan gave her ankle a swift and harmless kick.

* * *

Once Rob Fitch left, Wheeler and Logan stayed at the table. Neither wanted to speak first nor stand first. Logan turned his wrist to glance at his watch. Either he slipped out then or it would be another late night. He ran his fingers through his hair and dared a look at his partner. She was glaring at the table. Before one of them could suck it up and say something, Ross entered the room.

"What'd you get?"

"The name of a woman to talk to, more history on the group," Logan said.

"Do we have _suspects_?" Ross asked louder, obviously feeling the stress.

"Yea, a few," Mike answered. "We've gotta get some more stories."

"Fine. Do that first thing in the morning. For now, go home and get some rest." Ross turned and left the room. The two sat quietly for another moment, then Logan stood.

"We'll go talk to Risa in the morning and go from there. And we'll visit Harry in the hospital and see what he can tell us about the harassment."

Wheeler nodded and pulled her files together. "Fine. Goodnight." She got up and left the room as well. Logan sighed. Partners were impossible to please. Women were impossible to please. He let it pass over him, though. He had a barstool with his name on it to think about instead.


	5. Chapter 5

Mike was leaning over the railing of the Staten Island Ferry, breathing in the smell. Not necessarily pleasant, but familiar. His eyes were glued to the horizon of the city he loved. Excitement buzzed through him as the ferry pulled up to dock. He followed the other patrons to get off, but there was a gate that slammed shut. He walked into it, jutting to a stop. He ran his hands all over the gate looking for the latch. "Hey! Hey! Let me off!" He shouted to anyone. He tried to climb over it, but he couldn't. He started shaking the gate in hopes of breaking free, but it wouldn't budge. Then the ferry started backing up. "No! I need to get off! This is my home! Let me off!" As the ferry backed up, it was beeping. The beeping drowned Mike's cries out as it got louder and louder.

Mike awoke with a start. The beeping was coming from somewhere in his bedroom, and he wasn't on the ferry, he was in his apartment. He ran a large hand over sleepy eyes and climbed from his bed. He shuffled to where he'd thrown yesterday's clothes over a chair and pulled his cell phone from a pocket. He sat down on his bed and opened his phone.

"Logan," he yawned.

"Get some coffee and meet me at this address," Wheeler said. He grabbed a pen and wrote down what she said. "Rob Fitch is dead," she added.

Logan groaned and scratched his head. He glanced at his clock. "Couldn't he have waited til dawn?"

"See ya there," she replied, hanging up. She was still being cold to him. But at that hour, he couldn't care less. He hated being woken up for dead people.

* * *

"What's the story?" He asked, walking into an apartment and handing his partner a cup of coffee.

She took it, sipped, then looked at him. "Fitch lives with his brother. Brother found him around 3am." She led Logan to the kitchen where Rob was sprawled out on the floor. Rodgers was already there, peering over the body.

"Brother see anyone?" Logan asked. Wheeler shook her head. "Whaddya see doc?"

Rodgers stood and shrugged. "Same MO. I'd say this happened around midnight, give or take."

"No forced entry," Wheeler stated.

"Has anything come up from the prints from the other vics apartments?" Logan asked.

"Not yet," Wheeler replied. "All of the troupe members gave up their prints, and several match, but they also all have reason to be at each others apartments."

"Let's find Risa Kline's prints and call it a day," he said, walking off.

Wheeler glared after him, then turned back to Rodgers. "Anything else different here?"

"Not that I can tell at this point," Rodgers shook her head. "I'm sorry Detective, I wish I could tell you more."

* * *

The sun was rising as Logan and Wheeler drove from the crime scene. "How about some breakfast before we go in?" Logan suggested.

"Mmm please," Wheeler replied, her head rested to the side of the car, eyes closed.

"Y'know Wheeler, you should think about getting a car. That way you don't have to take a cab to these middle of the night-" he glanced over, but she was snoozing, so he shut up.

* * *

They strolled into MCS, and despite stopping to eat, were still two of the few people there. Even Bobby Goren wasn't there yet, and he always beat both of them in. Ross wasn't in yet, either. He'd woken long enough to call Wheeler about Rob Fitch, then call back later to see how it was going, but stayed home. Logan and Wheeler spent the next hour reading over their files, new and old, trying to find something they hadn't seen before. Trying to find some connection other than the obvious.

"Okay," Wheeler rubbed her eyes. "I need at least an hour of sleep."

"I need more than that," Logan nodded.

"It's too early still to find Risa, because...we do need to talk to her." She ignored the smirk from her partner. "Let's get in the car and 'drive around looking for her', sleep for an hour in the car, then call around?" She raised her eyebrows and his mouth dropped open.

"Megan, Megan," he scolded. "Are you actually suggesting we slack off?"

"It's not slacking off. We've been working since 3 am."

* * *

Two hours later, Wheeler hung up her cell phone and glanced at the passenger seat. It was laying all the way back and Logan was sleeping. She leaned forward and blared the horn. Pigeons that had gathered in the parking deck flew off and Mike jumped up, hitting his head on the roof of the car. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," she said.

"You're cruel."

"I spoke to one of the guys we met yesterday, Risa has a gig at 11. We can catch her there an hour before," she told him.

He set his seat back to normal and nodded. "That gives us about an hour." He opened his door. "Switch, I'll drive." When they had switched seats, he pulled them out of the parking deck and into the street. "We good now or you still pissy at me?"

"I wasn't pissy," she argued. "We had a difference of opinion."

"And you were being pissy about it," he said.

"And you were being a prick about it," she countered back.

"Well, I guess I got my answer." They fell back into silence.

* * *

Logan led the way through the community center and found the small room designated as clown central. A woman of roughly 35 sat in front of a travel mirror, applying a clear cream to her face. The two detectives stepped into the room. "Risa Kline?" Logan asked.

She glanced up with a friendly smile. "Yes? You here for the show?" She gave a warm chuckle. "As you can see, you're a bit early."

"No ma'am," Logan held up his badge and she nodded.

She set down the cream and her smile faded. "I was going to come in later today. I was out of town yesterday, and when Rob told me..." she sighed. "It's horrible. I'm sorry I can't be of much help. Like I said, I was out of town. For about a week."

"When was the last time you spoke with Rob?" Wheeler asked gently, easing into the chair near Risa.

"Yesterday afternoon. He said you were trying to talk to all of us and I should come in as soon as today's gig is up."

Wheeler glanced at his partner and saw that it was going to be her turn to say those horrible words. "Ms. Kline, I'm sorry to tell you this, but Rob Fitch was killed this morning."

Risa's mouth dropped and all color drained from her cheeks. "K-killed? He's...Rob's dead?" Her hand went to her mouth and a couple tears slipped down her cheeks. "No. No, he can't be. Rob's..." Her eyes slammed shut, and once again Wheeler and Logan exchanged glances. Both were clearly thinking, if this is our murderess she's a great actress. And Logan's thoughts went on to include the fact that she was a clown and probably did have acting experience.

"I'm sorry," Wheeler said after a long moment.

Risa opened her eyes. "Did he-was it...like Andy and Will?"

"Yes."

"Oh God. Poor Rob." She wiped her face and held her hand stiff when her face cream came off. "Shit." She grabbed a bunch of tissues and wiped her hands and eyes.

"Do you know anyone that would want to hurt the men in your troupe?" Logan asked.

"I don't know. We're a family. I can't imagine...I can't imagine anyone I know doing this."

"How well did you know Rob?" Wheeler asked.

The woman smiled faintly. "As well as he would let me. I was in love with him. Things between us were waiting to happen since the day we met. Last year...it happened. It was wonderful while it lasted."

"But he broke up with you?"

Risa looked confused. "What? No. No, I broke things off with him."

"Why?" Logan asked.

"I loved him, he was a good man, but not the right one. Despite the chemistry, it wouldn't have lasted. I saw that. I didn't want to lead him on. I thought since we worked together, it'd be best to end on good terms. And we did. I explained it to him and he agreed."

"He wasn't angry?" Logan clarified.

"No."

"Because he told us that he broke up with you, after several of the guys objected to you two being together."

"That's ridiculous! The guys found it amusing. They used to make jokes that Rob and I would marry and have babies and have our own little troupe of a family. I promise you, I broke up with him."

"And what about the other guys?" Wheeler broke in. "Were they harassing you at any time?"

"In the beginning, yea. It wasn't fun. A few of them were downright cruel. But not lately. Maybe every so often when we're all mad at each other someone will say something, but they always apologize later on."

"Like a recent fight you had with Kris Lincoln?"

She wiped the tissue over her eyes again and let out a small laugh. "Kris...that man is...yes. He's a sexist, rude, asshole. But I adore him nonetheless. He's like an older brother, no matter how stupid he is, he's family. He likes getting into it with me because he knows I'll bite back."

"And when you said you'd kill him if he ever lay a hand on you?" Logan asked.

"Someone told you that? Was it Kris? Did he tell you that after that fight we went out for drinks? Like I said, that's how we are. I didn't actually mean I'd kill him. Detectives, I'm honest here. We all got along. If you are thinking I had a grudge against any of them, you're wrong. If you'll excuse me, I have to put on my make-up and pretend to be happy, now."

"If you think of anything-" Wheeler started.

"I know," Risa nodded.

Logan and Wheeler stood outside the community center. "Wanna stay and watch the show?" He grinned and Wheeler just gave him a look. "Right." He headed for their car.

"What do you think of her?"

"Someone's lying," he said. "And I don't know who."


End file.
